by Billy Wong
Celia blinked. "Royal knights? If that's the case, it might be evidence to support Elly being innocent. Why would they interfere if their master was the one who sought our deaths?"
"I didn't think about that," Lina said hastily. "The knights are in the public eye though, so maybe she doesn't let them in on her more shady business."
Edge commented, "They must have been some skilled knights, to overcome three immense monsters like that. What was their fighting style like?"
"I don't know, considering I was knocked out until after it was over."
"What about the Necromancer, what happened to him?"
"Since they didn't mention anything about killing or capturing a man, I assume he got away."
He ground his teeth. "That lucky piece of shit."
"Admittedly, we were lucky too," Celia said. "If those knights hadn't come along, we would be the dead ones."
Lina nodded. "You guys were hurt real bad, too. I mostly healed your wounds, but needed to use up my last stone to do it. So you'd better not get too injured by Her Majesty or anybody else from here on."
"You weren't hurt?"
"I was, but I healed myself." Celia wouldn't have expected her to recover so quickly to be able to do that after the nasty kick she took, but supposed the healer was more resilient than she assumed.
#
Public visiting time for airing grievances over, Elly sat wearily on the throne while the crowd filed out of the room. Too much of her time was spent sitting down nowadays, when she'd prefer to move about more. She could understand why many in high positions grew fat and soft, though she hoped it wouldn't happen to her. Ah, well—she supposed she shouldn't leave it up to hope, but make sure herself that it didn't happen. She noticed a young-ish bearded merchant, who had asked some frivolous question before, walk towards Reginald who stood off to the side. Though he could just want to speak with the chancellor, for some reason Elly got a sense of foreboding. Her intuition proved correct as he raised an arm, a short blade poking out from his sleeve.
"This is for my wife!" he cried. Reginald turned, eyes widening in fright.
"Sword, come," Elly mouthed, and exploded off her seat. Before the merchant could strike, she cut through his spine. However, even as he fell forward, he managed to make a wild swing. His weapon grazed the chancellor's chest, staining its edge with drops of blood, but didn't go deep.
People turned back to stare while Elly wiped her sword off. Another incident to reinforce her brutal image, but it couldn't be helped. "Thank you, my queen," Reginald said.
"Just protecting my subject like I should. I assume you're all right, with that paper cut?"
"Yes, I seem to be fi-" He stopped and grabbed his chest, face going white. His legs buckled and he dropped to the floor. Violent convulsions wracked his body. Poison?
Elly thought about trying to suck it out, but realized it was too late for that given how much it already affected him. "Healer!" she yelled while Cyril stepped to her side. "Somebody get a healer!"
Cyril placed a broad hand on her shoulder. "Your Majesty. He's gone."
That fast? She looked to see Reginald's visage frozen in a horrible sneer that made even her shudder, features stretched taut to the point of gross distortion, dead eyes bulging from their sockets. She glanced towards the corpse of his murderer, and her revulsion turned to anger. Those merchants were that much of a threat to the kingdom, going so far as to assassinate her top aides? Then she'd take them seriously from now on, and show no more mercy than towards any other enemy.
#
Celia and friends finally came into view of Bagentroth, an immense sprawling city ringed by three white walls, each built farther out as the capital expanded over the hundreds of years since the kingdom's founding. Behind the innermost wall stood the complexly designed, often fanciful residences of powerful nobles, and at their center towered the many-spired castle which housed the throne. "We're finally here," Celia breathed. "It looks magnificent, but I just hope we'll be able to leave again."
As they passed through the mammoth gates, the arch overhead large enough to contain a good sized building, Lina instructed them to get off and walked up to one of the breastplated guards flanking the passage. "Some of the royal knights lent this wagon to me," she said to the confused-looking man holding a halberd erect. "You can return it to them when they get back."
Walking deeper into the city, they passed by a tall church, its triangular facade seeming to point like an arrow towards heaven. Edge stopped. "Think we should go and confess our sins to God, so that maybe He'll forgive us and grant us some of His blessing?"
Celia looked at him. "I never knew you were so devout."
"I'm not, usually. But considering we'll soon meet a possible adversary whose wrath we're unlikely to escape if things go wrong, I figure we should do every small thing we can to stack the odds our way."
"I can't argue with that. It shouldn't take long, so okay."
They entered the church to find the prayer hall empty, probably because no services were scheduled for the moment. Walking between the pews up to the robed statue of God, His smooth, featureless visage under the stone hood somehow ominous in light of what they faced. Celia pleaded mentally for Him to give their souls reprieve from His judgment, then said, "Who'll go first? I'll do if no one else wants."
"Go ahead," Edge replied, and Lina didn't contradict him.
Celia went to her knees before the image of Him and clasped her hands. On a whim, she decided to give her confession out loud. "Forgive me Lord, for I have sinned. I've killed a lot of people and hurt others, though they were trying to kill me as well. Also, I've been a little selfish. Instead of staying home to protect our family like my dad asked, I insisted on running off to investigate thinking to solve the problem all by myself—and perhaps, prove myself worthy to him. But my self-centered notions almost got my precious brother killed, and I realize now that one should keep the larger picture in mind over pursuing personal glory. Yet now my father is at a loss what to do, and what I and my friends are doing might be the last chance to save us. So I beg you, please forgive me and grant your favor if not for me, then for my innocent mother and brother who would also suffer."
She stood and stepped back, and Edge said, "That was actually pretty heartfelt. I don't suppose I'll be able to beat it, given it's you and your loved ones who are most at risk."
"The queen still might kill you if she takes offense to you opposing her goal. So do it for your own life's sake."
He knelt and took his turn. "Forgive me Lord, for I have sinned. I've killed a lot of people and hurt others, though they were trying to kill Celia as well. And me, because I was in their way. I also killed a lot of other people before then, some of whom were probably innocent or at least didn't deserve death. But I don't want to do that anymore, and I hope if I won't be spared from hell after I die, you'll at least give me enough of your favor so I can make amends for my dark past as much as I can for a while yet." Celia thought he was about finished, then he continued, "I've also had lewd thoughts about one of my friends, who's probably gotten so used to me by now she doesn't think twice about it. I hope you can forgive me for that, and perhaps see fit to plant the seed of love in her heart as well."
Celia waited for him to rise, then asked, "Are you serious?"
"I didn't specify which friend." When Lina raised an eyebrow, he added, "You two aren't my only female friends."
"If you're serious about me, you could just come out and admit it."
He looked away nervously. "We'll talk about it after we know we have more than a few hours left to live."
To imagine him picturing them rolling around together in bed made her queasy a bit, but then again he wasn't so bad, and not acting on it for whatever reason showed more restraint than she thought he might have. Maybe he was just intimidated by her dad and thus hesitant to approach her with his feelings, but still. "Your turn, Lina?"
"No need. I'm at peace with myself."
"I
guess healers are saints," Edge said.
Celia thought she might take it badly, but Lina laughed, and they followed suit. "It's more that you two have said more than enough. I'll save my words for the monster queen."
They left the church and headed on towards the heart of Bagentroth. "Are we even sure she'll see us?" Edge asked as they went under the last wall and the sharp spires of castle towers loomed closer and closer. "If she just turns us away and continues to send assassins, this will have been rather anticlimatic."
"Traditionally the monarch does have a time for hearing grievances," Celia said, "but what I would be concerned about is whether or not she'll agree to see us privately. I don't think it would be wise to approach her about this in front of the court."
Lina nodded. "Ideally we can get a private audience with her right away, and if not we'll just have to meet her when she's hearing complaints and try to convince her to give us a less public meeting then."
#
On the way home after visiting a friend, Harriet walked down the road towards Bagentroth with her eight year old son Joseph. The smell reached her first, a terrible stink the likes of which she'd never experienced before. "Mom, what is that?" Joseph asked, pinching his little nose shut in disgust. "It smells like a dead cat—a lot of dead cats."
Cats weren't the first thing that came to mind. "Come over here," she said softly, "and let me cover your eyes."
"Why would my eyes need to be covered? I'm a boy, I'm not afraid to see-" He stopped in his tracks as the source of the stench came into view. Three immense piles of human bodies lay on the path, almost blocking it. "Mom!" Joseph cried, and ran into her arms, allowing her to obscure his vision with a hand. "Those aren't cats..."
Harriet shivered uncontrollably herself, head light with a strong urge to faint which she only resisted knowing there would be no one to protect Joseph if she did. She didn't understand, though. These corpses seemed ancient, many skeletal or almost so. How on earth had they all made it out here? It was like a mass grave had been dug up, only she saw no holes in the ground nearby. She had ample room to give the closest heap a wide berth but had to weave carefully between the two far ones, her gorge rising when she had to step over a cadaver with exposed rib bones and missing its head. Shit shit shit... she bent forward to vomit in front of her son, picked him up to keep him from stepping in the puke and felt guilty to see a speck of it in his hair. Past the bodies now, she hastened her footsteps to put them behind her. When she got back to the city, the first thing she would do was report this to the guards. She wondered if even they would be able to figure out a decent explanation.
As she put distance between herself and the grisly scene, her rapid heartbeat slowed to a more normal rate. Inhaling deeply, she steadied herself and remembered to put Joseph down, though ghastly images continued to flash through her mind. Who would do such a horrible thing? She uncovered Joseph's eyes, only to regret it a second later when he yelped. Following his gaze to a ditch just off the road, she beheld a solitary fresher corpse in brown robes, his back torn so badly what she took to be lungs were exposed amid splintered bone. Had the desecrator of graves killed him too?
#
When they made it to the castle drawbridge, they learned normal visiting hours were already over. Not so surprising with it being early evening already. Nonetheless, this worked out well for them, since their first plan wasn't to come when most people did anyway. "Even so," she asked the guards, "could you ask if she would be willing to see us? Tell her it's Celia and Edge from Lideje, and that we have a very important matter concerning the safety of the nation to discuss with her."
One of the strapping middle-aged soldiers regarded them with a dubious gaze. "Very important matter? You're just a bunch of kids!"
His partner, similar in age and build but with deeper smile lines on his face, said, "Calm down, nobody likes a stuck up old man. Besides, the queen isn't much older than them, the robed one is probably even older than her. Maybe they're friends she made on her travels, and she'll be happy to see them. I'll go and ask."
They waited outside, and after a brief silence the more hostile guard asked, "Are you her friends? If that's so, I guess we should be glad our new ruler isn't too picky about who she deigns to associate with."
Celia didn't know they could quite claim to be friends with Elly, given how little they had really interacted. "She seems pretty open minded." Although she herself was the daughter of a well off merchant, but the then-princess hadn't known that.
The other guard returned. "I asked Her Majesty. She gave permission for you to see her... although she didn't look the most pleased."
Did Elly suspect what they were here about, or just suffer from the daily pressures of being queen? Though Celia didn't wish stress on her, she kind of hoped it was the latter for their sake. The guards gave them instructions on how to find the throne room, and they walked through elegant hallways lined with paintings towards it. She might have been drawn to the depictions of famous battles, weddings, and treaties, except their more pressing issue caused her to pay the artwork little mind as her pulse raced and sweat made her clothes cling to her skin. If they failed here, what would she and her family do? Assuming she survived, her best idea was to flee the country. But that would mean giving up what they'd built here, and starting all over... not to mention there was a good chance some or all of them wouldn't make it that far. She really wished they would be able to resolve this today, and hoped that wasn't being too unrealistic.
They arrived before the heavy doors that led into the throne room. "The queen told us not to open the doors again until she said to," the younger of two guards outside whispered while pulling them wide. "I don't know what's going on, but I'd suggest you tread carefully."
"T-thanks for the warning," Celia said, her voice cracking as her anxiety grew. Don't open the doors again... she imagined the guards doing so at Elly—no, Queen Eleanor's command to find their mangled corpses strewn across the floor. A monarch could do much as they pleased after all. The blood of thousands already stained her hands, so what would be a few youths more?
The portal clunked closed behind them while they crossed the vast chamber, their footsteps echoing from the faraway walls. It made Celia feel small, though admittedly, Elly looked small from here too. But as the massive throne drew closer, the seated figure dwarfed by it seemed to fill the space between them with her presence. Elly leaned against one of the armrests, legs crossed, yet the penetrating glare she leveled on them gave Celia little optimism that this would go smoothly. She wore a black dress, black cape, and black gloves with black nails exposed, fittingly of the black mood her demeanor conveyed. A large blond man in golden armor stood beside her—the queen's champion Cyril, no doubt.
"You've come to speak to me of assassins, I presume?" Elly asked.
Well. That significantly reduced the chances of her being innocent. "Yes, my father and I have been hunted by them for some time, and we thought-"
"That I was responsible for them?" She hopped down from her chair, the thump of her heeled boots against marble reverberating across the room. "You know the secret, then." Celia nodded, not without some reluctance. Elly's eyes narrowed, and she stretched an arm out to the side. "Sword, come." Her gigantic blade, longer than herself, appeared in hand.
Edge brandished his axes in turn, showing little care it was the queen he faced. "That fast, you won't even let us talk?"
"I'm in a very foul mood." A dark purple light glowed around her form, an inexplicable manifestation of her ire.
This scarcely resembled the princess Celia had known, but then she didn't know her well at all when it came to it. Maybe this dark version of Elly was closer to the real one, the destructive warrior all had feared before her apparent complacence. She drew her own sword, for a modicum of defense if nothing else. "We won't tell anyone! As long as you leave our family alone-" Elly shot forward, so fast Celia's heart skipped a beat. She and Edge tried to block together, yet Elly's slash was s
o powerful, it hit both their weapons and sent them flying at once. They bounced and rolled painfully across the floor, Celia rubbing an elbow as she came to a stop.
"You think your assurance is enough? The kingdom's security cannot rest on a few words. Those who would threaten it must be buried."
"But we just..." Just what? Learned her secret through no intention of their own? It didn't seem like that would sway the irate queen, hell bent on protecting her identity by any means necessary. In the lowest voice she could muster, she said to Edge, "She recently got impaled through the belly, and even she couldn't have healed completely yet. Maybe if we hit her there, we can stop her."
"You're welcome to try," Elly said. Celia and Edge picked themselves up and rushed while she stood calmly. Five paces before they reached her, she seemed to disappear and reappear beside Edge, swatted him away with a backhand. Celia lunged at her with a chop, but Elly's blocking sword didn't even budge from the force of her blow and she went stumbling back instead. While she flexed her shoulders to relieve the pain from the impact, Elly pointed teasingly at her stomach.
Edge rose clumsily and they tried to assail her again. Elly danced among their strokes, stepping and weaving just so that she flowed carelessly between them. Without warning she spun, sword out. Celia and Edge blocked frantically and found themselves tossed back again, Celia landing on her butt. Yet she wondered, why were they still alive? It felt like Elly could have attacked with much more urgency and butchered them easily already, but she allowed them to go on the offense and barely used any of her own. It was as if she didn't want to kill them, and perhaps worked herself up towards doing it—at least, Celia wished to believe that.
"You don't have to do this! What would we have to gain from exposing you? We're not so power-hungry to try and take the reins of the kingdom from you or something. Your secret's safe with us, can't we be the friends we had such a good start to becoming?"
The queen took a deep breath. "But if I'm lax with you," she said softly, "where am I to draw the line who to be lax or not lax with?" Celia realized then she wasn't close to as adamant as she attempted to come off, and probably still felt unprepared for the ruler's burden of difficult choices. Yet the young monarch set her jaw and charged, eyes hard in defiance of her doubts.
